Privileged Information
by ilovetvalot
Summary: When Prentiss is shot in the line of duty, David Rossi's reaction is anything but predictable. Please read & review. As ever, I do not own Criminal Minds. Co-auth'd w/ tonnie2001969


**Privileged Information**

As David Rossi clenched his shaking hands around the steering wheel of the black SUV he drove, he stared at the blue flashing lights of the ambulance ahead of him. Raw fear tasted like shit. Raw fear tinged with a touch of jealousy tasted even worse. And Rossi had been forced to swallow both as he'd watched Aaron Hotchner climb into the ambulance after Emily's stretcher had been loaded.

It wasn't Aaron's fault. He was simply doing his job as Unit Chief, taking care of his wounded agent. He didn't realize that it was another man's right to sit by her side, holding her hand. It was that damn fool woman he'd been sleeping with for the last six months…it was Emily Prentiss' fault. Not for getting shot. That had been unavoidable. That had been her job. Stepping in front of a civilian to prevent their unsub from gaining another successful kill was something any of them would have done. She'd just been the closest. That wasn't what he blamed her for.

No, he blamed her for her goddamned rules. Rules he'd never agreed to, if he wanted to be honest about it. And he did….want to be honest, that is. He wanted to yell from the rooftops that for the past six months, he had been quite happily sleeping beside the brunette inside that ambulance just ahead of him. But that would have broken one of the stubborn woman's goddamned RULES.

Hell, when had he ever abided by the rules in his life? Never! He'd always before played the game on his terms. And if the lady hadn't liked it, he'd simply walked away. But not this time. This time he couldn't do that. Because, this time, if he did, it meant walking away from an amazing woman whose every nuance held him entranced. Jesus, he was getting fucking poetic in his old age.

Cursing as the ambulance in front of him picked up speed, Dave spotted the tall towers of GW Memorial in the distance. "Just hold on, Emmy," he murmured out loud. He'd seen the wound; it hadn't looked that bad and it was a through and through. She'd require some rehab on her arm, but all things considered, if she had to be hit, that was definitely the best place for it to happen. The blood loss she'd experienced, however, that was something else all together. His last glimpse of her as they'd loaded her into the ambulance had been of her wan face wincing in pain. It wasn't a sight he ever wanted to see again.

Pulling into the ambulance bay behind the emergency vehicle, he barely paused long enough to kill the engine. He heard an attendant calling that he needed to move the vehicle, his only response was a quick glare in the unfortunate soul's direction. He had one priority now. And her name was Emily Prentiss.

*******

Four very long hours later, David Rossi finally felt that he might, just might be able to breathe normally. If such a thing was ever possible again. According to what they were hearing the doctor say at that very moment, his Emily was going to recover nicely, the bullet having done minimal damage as it had indeed just passed through her fatty tissue on the way in and out.

While that news gave him some reason to be encouraged, it did nothing to improve his overall mood about the situation in general. Emily had been doing her damnedest to maintain a stoic front, keeping everyone, especially him, at arm's length.

The harried trauma surgeon glanced down at the chart in his hand as he said, finally smiling slightly at the pale brunette, "Well, Agent Prentiss, all in all, I'd say you got off damn easy. It's not every day that I see a gunshot victim walk out of my ER on their own."

Emily smiled tightly as she shifted in the bed, saying, "It's not every day that I jump in front of a bullet, either, Doctor, so I'd say we're even."

Rossi couldn't help but wince at her statement, and he noticed that Hotch had a similar expression on his face.

Scribbling quickly in her chart, the surgeon nodded then said, "Well, as long as you've got someone to stay with you for at least the next 48 hours, I'd say you're ready to go."

"I can guarantee you, Doctor, she won't be left alone," Dave growled from the corner of the room, earning a glare from Prentiss.

"I'll be fine, Doctor," Emily said confidently.

Nodding, he smiled encouragingly as he returned, "You've been given your directions for wound care and I've written you a scrip for both painkillers and an antibiotic. So, if you don't have any further questions, I'll send the nurse in with your discharge papers."

"No. No questions," Emily smiled tightly.

"Then, it's my pleasure to release you from care. Make sure you schedule a follow-up appointment with your physician, " he reminded her before leaving.

Breathing a sigh of relief as the door closed, Dave studied Emily's face carefully, searching for signs of discomfort. As usual, her mask was firmly in place. Catching her in an unguarded moment around their Unit Chief was a rare thing, indeed.

"Okay," Hotch sighed. "I need to get back to the office and debrief Strauss. She's left three texts demanding an assessment of what happened today. Emily, do you want me to call JJ or Morgan to come pick you up and take you home?" Hotch asked, assuming Dave would want to join him in his meeting with the Section Chief.

"That fi-," Emily began.

"Not necessary," Dave said, cutting her off. "I'll take Emily home," he informed Hotch tersely. There was no way he was allowing this woman out of his sight. Especially not today.

"Dave," Emily said, feeling uncomfortable under Hotch's scrutiny, "I'm sure you'd be more useful at the office. I don't need a nursemaid. For that matter, I don't even need a ride. We aren't far from my apartment. I can take a cab."

"I don't think so," Dave said bluntly, shooting Emily a warning glare.

"I'm perfectly capable of –," Emily began, shifting in the bed.

"Dave's right, Prentiss," Hotch said flatly, cutting her off. "You shouldn't be alone," he said, glancing at his watch again.

"Go, Hotch," Dave said quietly, watching the man's anxious movements. "I'll get her home and call you with an update."

Nodding, Hotch patted Emily's arm. "You did a good job today, Prentiss. I'll speak with you later."

Watching as the door closed behind Hotch, Emily shifted narrowed eyes to Rossi.

Seeing the angry glint in her stare, Dave warned, "I wouldn't start with me if I were you, Emmy."

"Don't you "Emmy" me in that tone, Rossi. Especially when we're in public," she said with an uneasy glance at the closed door.

"For the love of Christ, Prentiss, it's just you and me in here now," Dave muttered, his frustration with her growing.

"You never know who could walk through those doors," she admonished, her tone agitated. "Or are you TRYING to out us to the entire team?"

"Would that be such a bad thing? Seriously, Emily. What's the worst that could happen?"

"We've already had this conversation," Emily said quietly, toying with the edge of the sheet covering her. "We decided…,"

"No!" he said angrily. Clenching his teeth, he told himself to calm down. If he got emotional, she'd shut down on him and he'd be back to square one. So instead of screaming the obscenities currently running through his head, he took a deep breath and said, much lower, "No. You decided, Emily. You ordered. WE didn't decide anything."

"I'm not discussing this here," she said tightly, glancing at the door again. Damn him, why did he have to act like she didn't have a right to privacy. Whatever she and the older profiler were to each other was private. And while she understood that he was much more adept at sharing his feelings, he knew going into this with her that she wasn't. The last thing she wanted to do was hold a personal conversation in this impersonal hospital room where anyone could overhear them. She couldn't…she wouldn't do it.

"Please, Dave, can we just table this until we get out of here? I'm tired, I'm drugged, and I want to go home," Emily pled, hating that her voice sounded weak, even to her own ears.

"Fine, Emily. But we're having this discussion tonight. Whether you want to or not. I think it's time that a few things got clarified between us," Dave relented, seeing the banked pain in her eyes.

Staring across the room at his set countenance, she finally nodded her acceptance. "Fine. But not here and not now," she agreed.

"I'll go find that nurse," Dave muttered as he walked out of the room.

*******

Settling onto her leather sofa with a sigh, Emily had to admit that it was nice to finally be home. While still experiencing the lovely effects of the painkillers she had in the ER, she could tell that, before long, she was going to need another dose unless she wanted the pain to return. Which, being a smart woman, she didn't.

Hearing a minor crash from her kitchen, Emily grimaced as she heard the muffled curse that followed. She had a distinct feeling that David Rossi was not exactly trying to be careful in there, his displeasure at the entire situation not a secret at all. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, but the next-to-the-last thing that she wanted to do right now was have a conversation about the matter.

Seeing him head back toward her with a tall glass and an orange pill bottle in hand, Emily said, sighing, "Dave, for the eighth time, you don't need to stay. I am more than capable of...."

"And for the eighth time, give it a break, Emmy," Dave ground out, pressing the glass in her hand as he tapped out two white pills. She scrunched her nose at the tablets, and he added, almost harshly, "Dammit, take them without griping. You and I both know that you need them."

Her face suddenly going completely blank, Emily leaned forward carefully, and deposited one of the tablets on the maple coffee table. She popped the other one in her mouth, swallowing dry, and said as she met his eyes, "One pill I'll agree to. Two, and I'm out of control, Dave."

"Heaven knows, we can't have that," Dave grumbled. Whatever would people say if the shot FBI agent actually took all her pain medication?" he quipped sarcastically.

Tiredly leaning back in her seat, Emily eyed Dave warily. "Can't you just give it a rest? Just for tonight," she said softly, her eyes tired.

Gazing at her face, Dave immediately felt the sting of remorse. "I'm sorry. I guess I just don't handle fear real well. Especially when I have to hide it."

"The danger has passed," Emily reminded him gently.

"Yeah. This time," Dave muttered.

"Well I don't intend to make getting shot a regular habit," Emily teased, nudging his leg with her bare foot.

"I certainly hope not," Dave sighed. "Once was more than enough for me. You scared the hell out of me today, Emmy."

"I'm sorry," Emily whispered. Not for the world would she have wanted him to witness what had happened today. But he had, and she couldn't change that. "But I'm okay now," she added, hoping she could alleviate that sorrowful look in his eyes.

"I'm not," Dave replied after a long silence between them. "I'm not remotely okay, Em."

"I'm sorry, Dave," she murmured, her eyes raising to meet his.

"I don't want you to be sorry, Em," he said tiredly, easing down on the leather, leaving a few inches between them. "I think you know what I want."

"We can't always have what we want, Dave," Emily said, sidestepping his words as she averted her gaze, no longer able to look into the dark eyes that showed his very soul.

"Yeah, we can," Rossi shot back, pressing his arm over the back of the sofa as he leaned in closer. "You just won't let us, Emmy."

"I didn't set the rules, Rossi," she said, curling up around herself as she reached for the throw on the edge of the sofa.

"Like hell you didn't," Rossi barked out softly, reaching automatically to adjust the throw, knowing that she'd never get it right with just one usable arm. "Damn it, Emily...."

"Don't, Dave. Don't make me the bad person in this," she said suddenly, turning to glare in his direction. "I didn't set the rules of society or the FBI that says that co-workers shouldn't date. Or that younger women dating rich older men are automatically classified as gold diggers or sleeping their way to the top. Those little gems were well in place before you and I ever met in the first place, Rossi. I did NOT make those rules, I'm only trying to follow them as closely as I can without losing you entirely."

"Same song, second verse," Rossi bit out. "It's your standard response every time we even come close to this topic, and guess what, Cara? It doesn't change my mind this time, either."

"Whether or not you accept the rule doesn't change the fact that the rule exists, Dave," Emily replied tightly, leaning her head back against the plush leather.

Scooting the last inch to reach her, Rossi reached out and touched her chin, turning her to face him. "Again, Emily, do I look like the kind of guy that gives a damn about the rules?"

Jerking her face away from him, she snapped out, "Well, I do, Dave! I've got a whole career and life ahead of me...."

"And I'd like to think that we're gonna share that life, Emily," he shot back evenly, again pressing his fingers softly against her cheek. "The question is, do you want a life with me?"

"Dave," she started, glancing over at him. Then she stopped and just stared, not saying a thing. The overwhelming silence in the room was broken only by the ticking of the mantle clock, the slight clicks marking each second of time that passed between them.

After a few minutes of the strained silence, Rossi finally asked, softly, "Emmy?"

Shaking her head, she said, softly, "Of course I want a life with you. But I don't want to be publicly scrutinized. Don't you think I had enough of that growing up? Having people constantly watching your every movement and gossiping about every choice you make isn't exactly gonna lead down the road to a happy life either."

"So let me get this straight here…you won't go public about us because you're afraid of what the implication that a relationship with me would do to you professionally?" Dave asked quietly.

"Dave," Emily began defensively, "you know how hard I've worked to get where I am."

"I know that. I didn't ask the question as an accusation, Emmy," Dave soothed, squeezing her hand gently. "I just want to make sure I understand what your fears are."

"Okay," she whispered. "Then, yes, the impact of making our relationship public on my job is my number one fear."

"So, this doesn't have anything to do with how you feel about me then?" Dave asked carefully.

Flashing surprised chocolate eyes at him, Emily shook her head. "No, of course not!" she said quickly, shocked that he'd even asked the question. "You know how I feel about you!"

"Not really, Emily," Dave said, slowly shaking his head. "I don't."

"How can you say that? I love you," she whispered as the realization dawned that she'd never bothered verbalizing the sentiment before this moment.

Feeling a warmth that he'd wondered if he'd ever feel with her begin to seep through his body, Dave released a relieved breath. His feelings hadn't been one-sided. That knowledge made his next decision easy to make. "I'll leave the Bureau. I'll retire, for good this time. I can consult on high risk cases and concentrate on writing," he said resolutely.

"What are you talking about?" Emily gasped. She couldn't have heard him correctly, could she.

"If our job is what's keeping you from being honest about us, I'll handle the problem. I'd rather be with you than be with the Bureau," Dave replied with a self-assuredness that amazed her.

"Wh-why?" she stuttered. How could he be willing to make that kind of sacrifice for someone? For her?

"Because I don't ever want to live through another day like I did today. Seeing you hurt and having to stay silent. Having to be stoic. Having to act like I didn't care any more about you than I would if Reid or Morgan were in that position. It was too much, Emmy. It was too much to ask of me. I can't do that. I'd rather have the right to call you mine than the right to flash a badge at an unsub."

"I – I can't let you do that," Emily denied mindlessly.

"You can't stop me from doing it," Dave replied evenly.

"What if you decide we don't work later on? After you've given up everything?" Emily said worriedly.

"I'm not ever going to decide that, Emmy. I told you that from the beginning," Dave said softly. "You're stuck with me."

"Dave, this is a big sacrifice for you to make. You might regret it later," Emily murmured, still asking herself how he could be willing to do this for her. To give up this part of his life. For her.

"You wanna know what the bigger sacrifice would be…watching you slowly slip away from me because of this job. That isn't a risk that I'm prepared to take, Emily. I've already sacrificed too much in my life for the good of the Bureau. I won't make the same mistake with you. I've had my career. You deserve the right to have yours."

Listening to his words, Emily felt herself begin to relax. This might actually work. Meeting his eyes, Emily bit her lip, indecision in her eyes.

"Emily, quit looking at me like you're asking me to do something that I don't wanna do. You didn't ask anything of me, Cara. This is what I decided."

"You know I didn't hide things from the team because I was ashamed of us. I've wanted to shout that we're together, too. Especially when those young female agents get that look in their eyes," she confided quietly.

"I've only got eyes for one young female agent," Dave replied steadily. "But, if it makes you feel better, now, you'll have the right to tell 'em to go to hell."

"Maybe this will work," she muttered to herself.

"There's no "maybe" to it, Prentiss. This WILL work. We'll make it work," Dave said confidently.

Leaning heavily against his shoulder, Emily felt her eyes growing heavy, the pain pill finally doing its designed job. "I meant what I said, Dave. I really DO love you," she whispered against his chest.

Brushing a kiss against her head, Dave smiled. "I really love you, too, Emmy. And soon, the whole world is gonna know that, too."

**FINIS**


End file.
